


Made the Fool

by swampstoat



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bets & Wagers, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bruising, Card Games, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't Use Oil as Lube, Gambling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Manhandling, Pet Names, Power Play, Rough Sex, Sex on a table, Unsafe Sex, mention of branding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29645889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampstoat/pseuds/swampstoat
Summary: It started with Caleb drinking and Ace playing with his cards. It lead to Caleb wanting to devour him, own him in every way he could, mark him deliciously so those around the campfire and the brutes within the Fog knew that Ace was the Deathslinger’s property.
Relationships: Caleb Quinn | The Deathslinger/Ace Visconti
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Made the Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely HauntedFerret for betaing this piece for me <3
> 
> Love this ship, wanted more content, bone apple teeth. Somewhat inspired by the Dead by Baelight Discord, my inspiration, my loves.
> 
> Enjoy, love xx

Sweat ran down his brow in the dry heat of the evening, sand dragging lazily across the dusty ground with the warm breeze. Unlike at the campfire; and every other realm within the fog, Glenvale was blessed with the last dregs of the vivid, orange sun, bleaching the wooden walls of the buildings and encouraging insects to swarm over the decaying bodies littered around the area. 

Thankfully, out of trials the corpses seemed to disappear, only remembered by abandoned weaponry and the occasional hat or neckerchief. Bullets decorated the walls of the saloon, letting beams of light in to highlight the dusty air around the only two patrons, a bottle of old whiskey between them as they sat cosied together in a worn wooden booth. 

Arm around his smaller partner's shoulders, Caleb was content sipping his alcohol out of a chipped glass, mouth faintly turned up in a barely there smile as he watched Ace effortlessly flick through yet another round of solitaire. He chuckled when once again, the gambler stacked the cards in a victory.

It had become surprisingly common for the two to spend their time between trials together, amicable drinking, card games and light conversation about nothing in particular passing the forever dusk more quickly than sitting alone to the whispers of the entity. Perhaps it was selfish of Ace to find more comfort in the realm of a killer than at the campfire with his comrades, to relax and banter with someone that sacrificed him and his friends countless times to some malevolent god while the others hung around a small clearing with barely adequate commodities. But it was in his nature to risk everything; his life in this case, which really didn’t mean much bar avoiding the horrific reanimation process.

Unable to keep his mouth shut when lugged around on a monster’s shoulder, it shouldn’t have surprised him that he got a reply. Except none of the other murderers had uttered a word to him, perhaps an annoyed grunt or a jab to his bleeding side, once he was dropped and hacked to pieces with a katana, but it had never stopped him. Yet he was entirely silent when the cowboy had chuckled at his corny plea for the hatch, mouth agape as a deep western American accent with an Irish twang told him to ‘hold his horses’.

They didn’t exactly have conversations, at most it was the occasional comment to each other as Ace was hauled to a hook. It evolved over time until Caleb had begun answering his question, hesitant at first as he slammed Ace onto the hook with a growl, pointing his speargun at the gambler’s throat before storming off to kill his companions; but with his charming smile and silver tongue, he eventually got the bounty hunter to talk.

Exchanging little tidbits about themselves as Ace pretended to struggle on the taller man’s shoulder, talking about their lives before the fog by the hatch as the trial collapsed around them, Caleb pushing the other man into it if he rambled for too long and was in danger of being impaled by the entity. It made sense that Caleb invited him to meet in the woods, able to take their sweet time talking about themselves and learn about each other, and damn, when Ace had made the gunslinger let out a full braying laugh at an old, embellished tale from gambling in the States, he couldn’t help the flush rising in his cheeks and the silly part of his brain finding the sound attractive.

Of course, Ace couldn’t exactly bring him back to the campfire to fend off the sinister chill that amplified as you delved deeper into the woods, so once his fingers had numbed and he’d stood to journey back to the meagre warmth the fire replied, he was surprised when Caleb patted a heavy hand on his shoulder and offered to take him back to the saloon for a drink.

Since then, they’d shared the old wooden building, drinking the seemingly self replenishing supply of spirits stacked behind the abandoned bar and Caleb trying to beat him in poker. While they had little to gamble with, it felt sweeter than any victory he’d ever won when the gunslinger would throw down his cards with a huff and curse the gambler’s luck. He was attractive with his brow furrowed like that, squinting slightly with his glowing white eyes from under his hat, staring at him with a smoulder until he’d growl for another hand.

He enjoyed watching though, not having seen Solitaire played until he’d met the gambler, analysing the options with a keen eye and smiling to himself when an opportunity for advancing was missed.

Shuffling the old deck of cards, Ace laid them out for another round. Laying the cards face down in growing piles as he went across before placing one face up on each of them, and a spare next to the shortest pile, lifting the top three cards off of the remaining deck before starting his game of sorting and ordering. He managed to find two aces and a two by the time Caleb stood to refill his glass.

“Grab me one too,” Ace smiled, watching the gunslinger’s behind appreciatively as he hobbled to the bar, gaze turning quickly to his piles of cards when Caleb turned to look at him. He was unaware he wasn’t quick enough to avoid suspicion.

A full bottle of Gold Creek whiskey clunked against the unrefined wood of the table as the killer set it down, huffing out a pained breath as he sat back in the booth and stretched his arm out around Ace’s shoulders once more, filling their glasses with his spare hand. The heavy arm behind him was solid and comforting, he couldn’t help but lean back into it as he attempted to calm the thrum of his heart.

Despite their assigned roles, Ace couldn’t help the  _ awfully embarrassing _ crush he harboured for the other man, drawn in by his wit and tolerance of the corny lines thrown his way. Despite the slack of his jaw, marred with a gnarled bullet wound scar, and the unnatural gleaming of his eyes, (and the sacrificing of him and his friends with a wicked, barbed spear gun), he had a strong jawline, ruggish facial hair covering his pointed chin and a sonorous, accented voice that pooled deep in Ace’s stomach, arousal flickering at his loins whenever the killer murmured something next to his ear.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen ye lose at that,” Caleb murmured, quiet against the wind outside and the creaking of the saloon around them. Putting up the four of spades, turning another card, putting up the three of diamonds, Ace grinned slyly from behind his sunglasses.

“I know my way around a deck of cards,” he replied, turning another three cards from his deck and starting to sort them. Caleb watched over his whiskey, eyes following the Italian-Argentinian’s deft hands carefully stack the cards in uniform, alternating lines. He’d almost completed this set, just trying to put up enough cards to move a stubborn Jack of clubs, blocking off his last card. With a smug smile, Ace unveiled the missing Queen of hearts and won his game.

“How do I know ye ain’t just cheatin’,” picking up the four piles of cards, Caleb started shuffling them together, counting how many there were as Ace laughed.

“Don’t need to cheat when you’re this good,” it felt good to have a talent over the killer, knowing there was one thing he was better at; even though it held absolutely no sway in their world, it made him feel good. Grumbling under his breath, Caleb started laying out the cards for another game, copying the layout he’d seen Ace set out so many times.

“I wanna see you lose,” gruff, but said with a quirk of his lip so that Ace knew it wasn’t malicious.

“Well where’s the fun in that?” Looking over the cards laid out in front of him, the gambler started piecing together where he’d start, but Caleb interrupted him, a long, slender finger hooked under his chin that pulled Ace’s gaze to look into his glowing white eyes.

“If you win, I’ll do anythin’ ye want,” his smile was all teeth, mildly threatening but all Ace could think of was those teeth digging into the flesh of his neck and a soothing tongue laving at the reddened indents. “Ye lose, well, I can ask whatever I want of ye.”

Arousal pooled in his stomach from their proximity and the offer of a prize he would surely win made him grin, sleazy as if he’d already won. Who was Ace to say no to a good bet.

A very gratuitous start was laid before him, two aces already facing up for him to start his gathering piles, the ace of spades unveiled a seven of the same suit, which he moved to settle on top of an eight of diamonds. Reluctantly with no moves left, he turned the top three of the deck.

Sipping at his whiskey, Caleb barely watched Ace move and flip over cards, resting his arm over the smaller man’s shoulders with a grin, the gambler so distracted at the prospect of his prize that he was completely unaware of the missing card, tucked up the Deathslinger’s sleeve. Ace was starting to struggle he noticed, glancing over as the gambler shuffled through his deck once, twice, until he started putting cards up onto his aces. He only got so far with that endeavour until he was going through his deck again.

All four aces now up with a small pile of matching suits, ascending numbered cards on top, it was becoming increasingly hard for Ace to move about the cards he had remaining laid out before him, moving a column of cards to the other available red nine to put up the one underneath them. He’d made his way out awful hands like this before as the victor, not betraying his slight anxiety at perhaps losing this game.

But really, was it losing with how sexually charged Caleb’s bet had been? Thinking about it, Ace wasn’t entirely against being held against his will by the taller man. Looking down at his cards, he slowly set down his deck, a signal of his defeat that made Caleb grin.

It was silent for a moment. Ace’s stomach churning with anxiety and excitement, the thrill of their bet burning in his veins as his body started pumping adrenaline, accustomed to his usual flight response when a bet falls out of his favour. The Deathslinger chuckled lowly, breaking the silence between them.

“Seems like I chose the right round to bet against ye, boy,” throwing back the rest of his whiskey and setting the glass down, Caleb pushed the glass away carelessly as he leant back against the old cushioned booth, rather pleased with himself at the situation he’d found himself in.

Ace kept up his poker face, but couldn’t help but swallow hard at the tone Caleb spoke to him in. It was almost a purr, enticing, stoking the embers in the gambler’s loins. Not at all helping his focus on willing his dick to stay down.

“Suppose so,” trying to sound nonchalant, Ace turned to grin at the killer, suppressing a falter at the other’s heavy gaze roving over his body. He was clearly checking him out, eyes lingering on the tanned skin of his throat and his salt and pepper haired chest visible between the unbuttoned top of his shirt. Taking the smaller man’s sunglasses, Caleb set them down with more care than his whiskey glass, pushing the table out with his good leg to create a space in front of him. A survivor sized space directly between his dusty, jean-clad thighs.

“Get on yer knees, little rabbit,” his mouth dried at the command, brown eyes widening at the sleazy smirk on Caleb’s marred lips. His cock hardened in his pants almost instantaneously, a mixture of attraction to the man beside him and longing for bodily contact after being alone in the Fog almost making him keel over with desire. After Ace didn’t move, the Deathslinger quirked a brow.

“You backin’ out of our bet?”

“No- No, not at all, just,” slowly easing himself out of his seat to kneel on the uneven floorboards of the saloon, Ace settled himself as comfortably as he could, clever hands warm as they ran up Caleb’s clothed thighs. He grinned up at the killer, suave persona back in an instant. “Wasn’t expecting this.”

Everything had boiled down to the two of them, Ace unable to hear the wind or the creaking of the saloon over his racing heart and the clinking of Caleb’s belt as he undid it, pulling the pin out of the tongue and unthreading it from the buckle. Unbuttoning the killer’s pants, Ace’s breath hitched when his fingers immediately brushed half-hard flesh and not the fabric of undergarments, a heady feeling washed over him like a wave, and the usually cocky gambler felt a scarlet blush creep up his neck as he came to the realisation.

Caleb groaned when his dick was pulled out of the V of his pants, flushed red, curving slightly to the right and firming up fully with the sensation of Ace squeezing the base. Licking his hand, the survivor gave Caleb’s cock a stroke, base to tip with a lax grip before tightening his fist slightly as he worked his hand back down, starting up a slow rhythm that had the Deathslinger growling, pleased with his little rabbit’s actions, but impatient, aching for more.

“You’d best get on with it,” looking down his body to Ace between his legs, Caleb’s voice had somehow gotten deeper, seductive in the way the letters curled off of his tongue. He reached down to thread his fingers in Ace’s hair, stroking the surprisingly soft strands before getting a grip, tugging the survivor’s face towards his aching cock.

Once the gambler was leaning in of his own accord, Caleb let go of his greying strands, about to rest his arm back over the booth but stopped by Ace wrapping a hand around his wrist. A sly smile was gracing his features as he leaned towards Caleb’s sleeve, licking a stripe across his bluish veins before biting and pulling back.

Between his teeth, the six of spades that had been missing from his deck. He’d been sabotaged. Plucking the card from his mouth, he held it between his fingers, quirking a brow up at the Deathslinger.

“Smart way to get me on my knees, I’ll give you that,” he quipped, slightly embarrassed at how eager he’d been at losing the bet, when it turned out he’d been set up to lose in the first place. Flicking the card up onto the table behind him, his features hardened when he noticed Caleb’s look of indifference. “I only hold out when play is fair.”

As he went to stand up, pride slightly torn, the Deathslinger weaved his fingers through his hair again, tugging a lot harder this time to keep the smaller man down, held just above his rigid dick.

“You ain’t going nowhere, little rabbit,” Caleb growled, chuckling at the sharp moan Ace let out at the harsh tug of his hair being pulled. The killer’s boot pressed lightly against the gambler’s bulge, the pressure increasing as Ace’s fingernails bit into Caleb’s legs slightly through his jeans. “Seems to me, like ye were wantin’ to lose anyway.”

If Ace was honest, the other man wasn’t entirely wrong. He was more annoyed about being played the fool. Grinding into the boot on his cock, he looked up at the Deathslinger, shuddering under his wicked grin. He could get over it though, if this was the price to pay for a single loss. With that thought in mind, he leaned forward to lick at Caleb’s cockhead.

“There’s a good boy, now...” Letting out a deep breath with his words, Caleb relaxed into the old leather booth, loosening his fingers in Ace’s hair to guide, rather than pull him. His breath hitched when the gambler ran his tongue down to the base of his dick, groaning into the dry, hot air at the sensation of Ace sucking the side of his cock, mouthing his way back to the tip methodically.

Cheeks flushing darker at the praise, arousal thrummed in his veins as he eased his mouth down Caleb’s length, getting about halfway down before needing to pull back and gather more spit in his mouth to ease his way. He couldn’t help but moan around his mouthful as Caleb pressed his foot down on his clothed erection again, the sound garbled and sinful muffled by the killer’s thick cock heavy on his tongue.

“Knew you were gaggin’ for it, lookin’ at me with that whore smile of yours,” Caleb’s dirty talk was unexpected but immensely arousing, Ace’s dick throbbing in its confines as he opened his mouth wider and pushed himself down, eyes closing in the bliss of salty, bitter precum across his tongue and the firm pressure pressed against his cock. “Knew you’d be good at this.”

Ace made a happy noise in the back of his throat. He knew he was good at sucking cock. His promiscuity before the Entity’s realm was a well known fact he’d often brag about; but having been deprived so long, he was surprised by his out of practice gag reflex when he tried to take Caleb’s length into his throat.

Pulling back, somewhat embarrassed at the awful noise he’d made, Ace took a deep breath, ignoring the man above him chuckling as he dove back down. Steadily, he breathed out through his nose as he took in inch after inch of the killer’s dick. He swallowed as the cockhead brushed his throat, another quick breath through his nose, before taking the plunge and taking the entirety of Caleb in his throat.

“Oh, fuckin’-” Caleb’s hands clenched around the wooden frame of the booth, cursing as he groaned deeply. He cupped the back of Ace’s head to hold him in place, stroking the soft hair on his nape. Wet and warm surrounded his cock, the survivor’s throat working around him velvety smooth and tight; the temptation to thrust forwards was immense. The image of Ace having his throat fucked until he cried was vivid in Caleb’s mind. He made sure to store that thought away for later, with a feeling there would be plenty more occasions in which he could ruin the pretty little gambler.

Caleb’s train of thought came to a halt as Ace pulled off his cock for air, looking up through his lashes as he leisurely started pumping the killer’s spit-slick dick in his fist. His lips were slightly puffy and his eyes were wet from pushing the boundaries of his unpracticed gag reflex. The inside of his boxers were damp with precum, shifting his hips upwards against Caleb’s boot, desperate for some friction. Licking his lips, he lowered his head once more to swallow the killer’s cock.

“That’s it, little rabbit,” Caleb sighed, eyes closing as he revelled in the sensation of Ace’s throat tightening around his cock. The gambler was so much better than any of the women he’d bedded during his bounty hunting, incomparable to any of his other hurried experiences that were more to let off some steam than anything meaningful.

Truthfully, Caleb hadn’t exactly felt this way about anyone before. He wanted to do wicked, terrible things to the man between his thighs (perhaps not as deadly as spearing him with his gun and ripping out his entrails with the barbed harpoon). 

He thought of pressing Ace down by his throat, scratching red welts onto his thighs, biting and bruising his neck. Caleb wanted to  _ devour  _ him,  _ own  _ him in every way he could, mark him deliciously so those around the campfire and the brutes within the Fog knew that Ace was the Deathslinger’s property.

Caleb grinned to himself, thrusting his hips shallowly to hear the survivor moan and struggle to swallow around his girthy length, revelling in the sight of him with drool running down his chin. His cheeks were flushed darkly, his lips gaping wide around him. His little rabbit wouldn’t be able to escape a brand, Caleb thought whimsically.

Suddenly, the killer sharply tugged at Ace’s hair, holding the man an inch away from his dick, chuckling wickedly when he moaned and tried to lick at the precum beading on his tip. He tugged the gambler up off of his knees, practically tearing Ace’s shirt off of him before turning him and pressing his chest down hard onto the card scattered table, the glasses clinking dangerously and the bottle of whiskey toppling and shattering as it hit the floor, the amber liquid beginning to seep into the floorboards.

“Yer so desperate, like a bitch in heat,” his laugh was deep, making Ace shiver and try to reach for the other man, but Caleb was quick to pin his wrists to his back, only needing one hand to keep the survivor still under him. Ace arched his back, grinding his clothed ass against the Deathslinger’s cock with a moan and a coy smile over his shoulder.

“All for you,” he panted, groaning when Caleb squeezed at his waist with his spare hand. The killer was quick in shucking Ace’s pants, pulling them down to pool around his ankles and wasting no time in fumbling for the oil in his jacket as he shouldered it off onto the booth seats behind him. If the oil worked well for keeping his gun working smoothly, it’d be perfect for stretching the survivor open.

“Damn right, yer mine,” leaning over the smaller man, clothed chest to his bare back, Caleb sank his teeth into the gambler’s shoulder, rutting his hips forward to grind his slick cock against Ace’s ass.

Palpable was the imbalance between them, Caleb almost fully clothed whilst the boy was laid bare, writhing and releasing sinful moans and breathy gasps into the still air of the saloon. The predator had finally pinned his prey.

With a final lick to the purpling bruise on the younger man's shoulder, the killer pulled back to admire his work. He smirked to himself, uncorked the vial of oil, then drizzled the slick over his cock, nestled between the gambler’s ass cheeks.

Generously coating his fingers in the liquid, he spread Ace’s asshole open to press his calloused trigger finger against his hole, rubbing slow circles onto the ring of muscle until it relaxed. 

It hurt slightly as the finger pressed in. Sex and masturbation were not exactly on Ace's list of priorities anymore, so the stretch of something - no, someone - inside of him was so  _ fucking  _ good. And as unprecedented as his position was, he was glad that his first time in years was with Caleb.

The killer's grin was positively wicked as he thrust his finger in and out of the smaller man, careful for all of two seconds before rhythmically pistoning his finger back and forth. 

“Fuck, Caleb,” Ace whined lowly, voice on it’s way to being completely wrecked after the deep throating his throat had endured. His skin felt aflame, sweat slicked to the point the cards beneath him stuck to his skin as he curved his spine, trying to get the Deathslinger’s finger deeper, faster,  _ anything _ more than this torturously slow pace.

Hearing Ace say his name so desperately made Caleb's cock twitch against the curve of the smaller man’s ass, growling as he pressed in another finger with little care as to whether it would hurt or not. He knew the survivor would like it either way. He crooked them just to wring another breathy groan from the smaller man, grabbed at Ace's hip, and started thrusting a little faster. Only then, satisfied with his rabbit pinned beneath his grasp, did he press his fingertips against his prostate.

Writhing beneath the older man's firm hold, Ace let out a broken sound at the pressure gliding back and forth against his prostate, cock leaking from the stimulation. Craving more, Ace reached back to curl his fingers into one of the belts across Caleb’s chest, trying to meet the older's gaze.

“Please,” he croaked, hardly able to hold eye contact before his eyes rolled up into his skull, cheek pressed against the table. Overwhelmed as he was, the tight grip on his waist, the fingers filling him so deliciously with just the hint of a sting; Ace still needed more, practically drooling at the thought of Caleb ramming into him and forming bruises across his hips and thighs, sinking in his teeth and making the gambler scream.

His plea didn’t go unheard, and a third finger entered his tight heat, spreading out and thrusting hard to thoroughly stretch him out. Ace couldn't help the constant stream of nonsense spilling from his lips; begging and moaning and asking for more, more, more. 

Caleb was almost enamoured with the man shuddering and moaning beneath him. If this was Ace with but three fingers curling against his prostate, what would he look like stuffed full with the killer’s cock, with his hands cuffed above his head to stop him from touching himself as he was fucked? 

Powerless to hold himself back any longer, the Deathslinger pulled his fingers free of Ace’s oil slicked hole and flipped the smaller man over; and what a sight he was, pink flush across his cheeks, as far down as his dusky, erect nipples, eyes glazed with lust, mouth open and panting hot breaths. His cock was hard against his stomach, blushing red and smearing precum against his navel. 

The cards on the table had adhered to his hot, slick skin, the nine of diamonds and a selection of others stuck across his chest that heaved with his gasps for air. Caleb couldn’t hold back from leering at the man laid before him. Ace looked just like a poker playing pin-up. Utterly delectable, ready to be ruined.

“Ya want my cock, little rabbit?” Rutting his dick into the survivor’s ass crack. He wanted to see just how long he could tease Ace; how long it would take for him to fully break and beg. With how long he’d been fingered and tortured with the cowboy’s boot pressing into his dick as he choked on his length, Caleb was certain that it would not take long at all.

Ace was slammed back down to the table when he tried to pull himself up, the wood creaking and at the impact. The younger man could barely hold back a whine at being manhandled. Though he’d never admit it, the survivor really enjoyed the rough treatment, the throbbing of his back and hips only going straight to his cock. Lust bubbled in the bottom of his gut at the embarrassment of being made to beg for it. Throwing an arm over his face in an attempt to hide his reddened cheeks, he moaned when Caleb dug his fingers into his thighs.

“Fuck me,” barely a whisper, certainly not the admittance the Deathslinger had wanted. He made it known with a harsh swat at Ace’s ass, the responding yelp going to his groin and making his cock twitch.

“What’s that, boy? Can’t hear ya,” he teased, rubbing his thumbs in little circles against Ace’s hip bones. Groaning at the sensation, the survivor tried to shift under Caleb’s hold, breath leaving him in a rush of a moan when the killer’s hand returned to his chest, pressing hard enough to make his ribs protest as the other hand dug into the man's hip. Seeing no other way to make the man budge, Ace cut his losses rather quickly.

“Please, fucking-” cut off by his own sharp moan at Caleb’s cock catching on his entrance, the gambler’s blush spread down his chest, enticing the other man to roam the skin with his calloused fingers, pinching at Ace’s nipples and grinning at the pretty sounds he made in response. “Caleb- fuck me, please, fuck me!”

Alleviating the pressure from the survivor’s chest, the bounty hunter was more than happy to fulfil his desires. Chuckling to himself as he lined his cock up to Ace’s slick hole.

“There’s a good boy,” sliding into Ace was heaven, tight and warm engulfing the killer’s length as he jerked his hips forwards, each time a little further than the last. Also ethereal, was the sound his survivor made, eyes going wide as he arched into the table, breathlessly moaning as he was penetrated, the slight burn buried beneath the firm grip on his thighs. Divine, as Caleb hilted himself and groaned low in his throat at being wrapped up with the gambler so intimately.

Overwhelmingly full, Ace gasped for breath, head thudding against the table as he reached down to hike his legs up higher, not as flexible as he used to be but damn well trying. Though Caleb didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts, growling with a sneer before grabbing at the gambler’s wrists, pressing them into the card scattered wood with a bruising grip, choosing that moment to pull out slightly and thrust in hard. The table rocked with the force of it, Ace practically yelping at the sudden emptiness, then fullness and the tight grasp restraining him.

Leaning slightly over the survivor to pin him down with his body weight, the Deathslinger started up a quick rhythm that left Ace reeling, crying out as his insides were pummeled with nothing he could do but take it, Caleb’s thick cock jabbing at his prostate every other thrust making it hard for the gambler to hold back his pleased grunts and whimpers every time their hips met. Grip tightening on his wrists, pleasure coursing through his body, he cried out for the killer to go faster,  _ harder _ .

“Such a fucking whore, beggin’ me for more when you’re already, full o’ me and so darn pretty,” Caleb huffed out between laboured breaths, sounding rather indignant but thrusting harder all the same into the pliant body beneath him. Ace grinned and ground himself down onto the killer’s thrusts, eyes glassy as he moaned and met Caleb’s gaze looking positively sinful. Akin to the devil himself seducing him into a bargain, the gambler was wicked in how he enraptured the bounty hunter, body responding beautifully to the quick and hard rhythm, voice high and breathless as he was ploughed into.

“Your- whore-" almost lost in a groan, Caleb could have missed the vulgar claim. His knee was starting to flare up, and by the feel of it he’d be limping after this for quite some time until the pain went down, but with Ace’s words he pushed himself to fill him over and over faster than before.

“Yer god-damn right,” he snarled, rhythm faltering slightly as he leaned down to lick and bite at the gambler’s chest, unphased by the curls of hair there as he left more bruises across his olive skin. Ace managed to break one of his hands free from Caleb’s loosened grip to grab at the back of his shirt, visibly preening at being marked as his property, salacious sounds dripping from his pretty mouth at each swipe of a tongue and sting of his teeth.

Feeling his orgasm building fast from all their foreplay, the survivor pleaded for more, eyes rolling back when Caleb wrapped a hand around his throat and somehow went harder, balls slapping against Ace’s ass as he tightened his grip. At first it was just a pressure, not restricting his breathing in any way, but the thought of it suddenly being cut and under the control of the other man made his dick throb between them, the feather light brushes of the Caleb’s untucked button up the only direct stimulation his cock had received since being under the killer’s boot and driving him insane.

After a particularly erotic moan in response to his prostate being hit again, the grip on his throat tightened, leaving Ace fighting for breath as the thrusts continued providing delicious friction, Caleb’s smug grin going hazy in front of his eyes before it all came back with a rush of air, fingers loosened once more. Gasping shakily, he couldn’t help the way he curved into the Deathslinger’s grasp, the feeling of being filled delicious as the hand on his neck pressed down again.

He felt like property, entirely owned as the bounty hunter murmured praise between groans of pleasure, sounding threatening in the things he rattled on about wanting to do to the gambler. It was enticing, the prospect of having regular encounters such as this, his hole used and his body pushed to its limits as he obeyed. When his breath came back to him, he begged for it, encouraged every one of Caleb’s perverted desires and plans until his air was taken from him again.

Everything felt doubled in intensity with his airway cut off, gasping pathetically around the Deathslinger’s chokehold as he came hard, painting his stomach and Caleb’s shirt white with his spend, the other man still thrusting sharply into his slick heat but kind enough to move his hands to a deathgrip on Ace’s bruised hips, slamming home in a slowly faltering rhythm. In the haze of his post-orgasm bliss, the gambler sighed little moans at the killer’s ministrations, reaching up to curl his fingers into Caleb’s shirt.

Lips curving upwards into a sexy smirk, he pulled himself up slightly to better the angle the other man was pumping into him at, clenching in time with his thrusts to make him groan. He sucked a mark onto Ace’s neck; so close, so achingly close.

“You better fill me up, Caleb,” purred by his ear is what did him in. Groaning low in his throat, Caleb’s hips stuttered as he came hard into the smaller man, milky seed coating Ace’s insides and spilling out as he thrust through his orgasm, thoroughly debauching the gambler as he slowed to a stop, breathing heavily hunched over him. 

They shared air as they came back to the saloon from their orgasmic stupor, Ace feeling too hot and sticky with cum, sweat and cards stuck to his skin, the other man’s leg complaining something fierce at being stood for so long.

Scooping under the survivor’s thighs, Caleb lifted him from the table, holding him against his chest before letting himself fall backwards, chuckling at the yelp of surprise Ace as they fell, ending up sitting on the killer’s lap in the booth. Feeling brave, he wrapped his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, relaxing in his hold with a sound skin to a purr that made Caleb grin smugly.

“If this is how we’re playing now, I don’t think I’m leaving this place ever again,” Ace mumbled into the killer’s chest, trying not to think about how he’d be thrown into another trial soon and forced to watch his friends suffer and perhaps get gutted himself. Chuckling at the statement, Caleb stretched his braced leg out, patting the other man’s bare flank.

“Y’ain’t goin’ no where without my mark on ye, that’s for damn sure, little rabbit,” it was entirely possible the Entity would remove the evidence of their copulation, but that wouldn’t stop him from marring the gambler’s skin with bites, bruises, hickeys, maybe even a branding mark if he could find the right materials. Ace looked up at him with a smile.

“I count on it,” a sultry little wink accenting his desire. Caleb’s dick gave a valiant twitch, having grown soft inside of his survivor. He definitely couldn’t get it up as soon as this, not as young as he used to be when he slept around between bounty hunts, but with a lap of pure sin and beauty, it was trying its best.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and wish to support me, you can buy me a coffee! - https://ko-fi.com/swampstoat


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